


Desire

by blackbird



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-23
Updated: 2005-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbird/pseuds/blackbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the what comes after that's going to matter the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Set at the end of 510, but with no spoilers for any future episodes.

"I love you."

Your ears are still ringing from the explosion, so you think you must have misheard him. That or you really are dead and this is some fucked up version of Heaven, since never in a million years would that sentence come out of his mouth.

Then he says it again.

"I love you," Brian whispers brokenly, his heart is pounding hard and when he kisses you, you can almost taste the fear and desperation. You can't look at him when he pulls away, so you bury your face in the crook of his neck. Under the smoke and sweat, you can still smell his cologne lingering on his collar and you inhale, wanting one familiar thing to cling to now that your world has been turned on its end.

Babylon is gone, a broken, blackened shell.

Michael is lying in the hospital, fighting for his life.

Brian Kinney said he loves you.

*

You have no idea how long the two of you have been standing there, letting people stream around you in the chaos, when you see Emmett over Brian's shoulder. He's walking away with Drew Boyd, whose arm is wrapped firmly around Emmett's waist. It makes you smile a little and when you look up, there's a ghost of smile on Brian's face too.

One of the cops, a friend of Carl's, lays a hesitant hand on your shoulder. "You boys need a ride some place?" he asks. You can't face the hospital right now or the fussing and fawning at your mother's, but you don't want to go to your tiny, quiet apartment either. Before Brian can say anything, you make the decision for both of you.

"Tremont Street," you answer and he nods. You follow him to a huge, black SUV parked just outside the police tape. Brian seems oddly reluctant to let go of your hand even for the moment it takes for you to climb into the back seat, so you pull him in beside you. He sprawls his long legs out and settles himself against you while the officer finishes speaking to one of the paramedics, who glances at you and shakes his head yes. You must have gotten the all-clear, because he gets in, the engine roars to life, and you begin to slowly make your way through the maze of ambulances, cars and people littering Liberty Avenue. The police scanner is loud enough to cover conversation, but it seems neither one of you knows what to say. So you don't say anything, you just hold his hand and wait for him to take it back.

***

Your suitcase is sitting outside the loft door, the silver luggage tag gleaming in the dull light. Thank God Cynthia ignored you and booked you on the night flight instead of the afternoon one.

Sliding the door open, you watch as he looks around, like he's expecting you to have redecorated since he left. In truth, you spend as little time here as you can because everything that used to be yours and yours alone reminds you of him.

He takes off the paramedic's jacket as you point him toward the bathroom. The air between you is heavy, charged, but part of you is afraid if you break this strange silence, you'll say the wrong thing and send him skittering away from you again. And right now if he did leave, you'd chase him. That's the part that scares you.

The panels are open and automatically he glances into the bedroom as he passes. The bed is still rumpled and you know he's wondering if you had a trick here before you left. You did, but that hardly matters now.

Leaning into the shower, you turn the faucet on and let the water start to warm up. He's looking at himself in the mirror, pushing his hair out of the way to examine the gash on his forehead. The sight of blood there makes you more than a little nauseous, so you turn him around and begin to slowly unbutton his ruined shirt.

Your fingertips brush over warm skin as you slip each button open and it feels like he might be holding his breath as you get to the top one, your thumb lingering in the hollow of his throat. There's a bit of dried blood on the collar that you try to ignore as you toss it on the floor. A purple-black bruise the size of a grapefruit is blooming on his ribs and he winces when your fingers slide over it. Unbuckling his belt seems to distract him from that and you too, since you don't feel your own shirt starting to come off at the same time. You can't help but smirk a little. He was paying attention to those lessons after all.

Once there's a sizable jumble of clothes on the floor, you both step inside the steamy shower. He ducks under first and groans as the hot spray begins to rinse the black soot and dirt down the drain. The water reveals a few more scratches on his neck and another small bruise on his collarbone and when your lips graze it, he shivers.

The citrus smell of the shampoo is sharp and clean and he smiles indulgently when you gesture for him to turn around. You work it in slowly and he moans a little as you massage his scalp, leaning into your hands. This need to touch him isn't new, so you draw it out, letting him duck his head under the water as your slick, soapy hands slide over his shoulder blades, down the bumps of his spine, and this time when he shivers, you want to laugh but it gets stuck in the back of your throat.

The water's getting cooler now, the way you like it, and out of habit he steps back and hands you the soap. You both start and for the first time tonight you really feel that hot flicker low in your stomach. One look at him and you know he feels it too. Because no matter what happened or what you said, you're still Brian Kinney. There was no doubt this night was going to end any other way.

When you finally make it into the bedroom, you don't even bother with lights - it isn't like the two of you don't know the way. He lets you guide him, your hands moving over his face, his chest, his stomach until he's lying back, pale skin in sharp contrast to the dark sheets.

Crawling in beside him, you kiss him sweet and slow because you don't want to rush this. He's alive and warm under your hands and it's the thing you've been thinking about from the moment you saw him covered in dirt and blood, but breathing and whole.

You stretch out on top of him, your still damp skin sticking to his a little and this time you do laugh and so does he, leaning up to catch your mouth. You'd never admit it, but he really is an amazing kisser. He's shifting under you now, his hard cock sliding against yours, but your hand moves to his hips and stills them. The question in his eyes is clear, but instead of answering, you kiss him one more time, lips and tongue coaxing him into submission.

He doesn't believe what you said to him. If you were him, you'd have some doubts yourself. But if he'd seen you before – scared wasn't the word. More like completely fucking terrified. Your heart was bursting out of your chest with every call he didn't answer and all you could see was the look on his face the night he left you, the way he tried to make you think he wasn't that upset. And that he understood you couldn't love anyone but yourself.

As your lips glide down the column of his throat, you say the words silently against the thump of his heart.

 _i miss you_

Across, and into the dip of his collarbone.

 _i'm sorry_

Down his chest, teeth tugging gently at his nipple.

 _i need you_

Over his stomach, tongue trailing around his navel in lazy circles.

 _i want you_

He's straining to stay still as you go lower, teasing the sensitive skin on his hip and sucking at it until it raises purple marks that are much more pleasant than the other ones he has now. You let your hand travel to his cock, torturing him with deliberate strokes until he makes that keening sound in the back of this throat that you can never resist. Hot and wet, you slip your mouth over him, curling your tongue around the head of his cock as the keening gives way to a low moan of relief. It's not long before he's thrusting his hips up and you know he's so close, but you don't want him to come, not yet.

You pull your head up and you don't even have to say anything, he's already got a condom and lube in his hand. This time you don't even bother to stop yourself when you smile at him as you tear the packet open and roll it on. The lube is cool in your hand, but the look in his eyes is unmistakably blistering as you slick it over your cock. You didn't know the last time you did this almost was the last time, so you want to make sure he remembers this one if he walks away again.

Pushing his knees back, you slide inside him slowly, letting him feel every inch before pulling out again. He's tight and God, you missed him, because no else is quite like him. His hand is between you, jerking himself off in time to the snap of your hips and biting his lower lip just a little, like he does when he's trying to get something just right.

That familiar burn is starting to build, but he hasn't come yet, so you change your angle slightly and move faster and faster until he's wound so tight that when he does come, it's hard and fast and maybe the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Only a few more thrusts and you're following him over the edge, his name and those three words tumbling out between the shudders.

You're still shaking when you lean your forehead against his, he kisses you gently, fingers running through your hair.

"I know."

And you can finally breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to [](http://playfullips.livejournal.com/profile)[**playfullips**](http://playfullips.livejournal.com/) for her super fast beta work and to [](http://raelala.livejournal.com/profile)[**raelala**](http://raelala.livejournal.com/), who is now my slave girl. I listened to Ryan Adams' song _Desire_ on repeat while writing this.


End file.
